A Comforting Friend
by pharoahs.writing
Summary: With his breakup with Rose, John feels sad really. Its up to a friend to console him and pull him out of the dumps. UNFINISHED
1. Chapter 1

Alright, Tenny and Jack; let's go. Also, I'll be using John Smith for the Doctor's human name, being AU and all. Characters might seem OOC but its late here.

The Thames almost glimmered in the noon sun, small reflects of light on the murky top. Just like typical United Kingdom, the skies where grey. People still bustled about, running along the streets and sidewalks, they had places to see, to go, and people to visit.

Among them sauntered John Smith, hands resting in his pockets. With his tousled brown hair and eyes like pools of chocolate, long and lean legs and the ever worn smile, he was a sight of beauty. He was called by his current girlfriend, Rose Tyler, to the river. They had a steady relationship, built on affection and love. It had lasted for months, soon stretching into a year. It transferred into two years, Rose's mother being proud of her daughter, holding onto a man for this long.

She herself had blonde hair that caressed her shoulders. Her brown eyes held warmth to them on most days, sometimes falling if sadness struck. With her short legs, height being the cause, she made her way to John.

As he saw her, he beamed a bright smile like the sun. He withdrew his hand from his pockets, pulling her into a light hug. He didn't notice how she didn't seem to enjoy it, like his affections where pointless. "Rose," he mumbled, finishing embracing her. "Rose, how are you today?" he inquired, removing his arms from her.

With a sad chuckle, she shrugged. "I'm fine. In fact John, that's why I wanted to see you today."

He raised a brown eyebrow; she had asked him to meet her to tell him that she was fine? "What do you mean?"

She looked at the ground, eyes turning cold with small tears. She had practice this multiple times, so she didn't know why she couldn't go through. She glanced back up at the Scottish man, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I, um, want to break up. I-I just don't see what I saw in you anymore, I'm sorry." By now, pools of salty tears had gathered in her eyes.

John's eyes harden, like the chocolate froze and didn't flow. His smile crept off his face, replaced with a straight face. He nodded solemnly, hands returning to his pockets, like he did when he became sad. "Alright," he said, voice cracking slightly. "Thanks for the great two years I guess," he managed out. "Keep in touch?"

She shook her head, blonde hair traversing to one shoulder. "I don't think so." She didn't need to keep in contact, which might make her break down and cry. She turned on her heel, managing a small and broken "Goodbye John."

He watched her make her way through the crowd, most likely heading home. When she vanished from his sights, he too headed home. He toddled home, looking at his usual red converse on the way, not caring to look up. He was broken hearted. Pain, the emotional kind, entered his mind.

John soon found his way home, to his small apartment. He carried himself up the stairs, stopping at his door. His jiggled his key in the lock, the small _click _telling him it was safe to come in. Which he did.

He entered, removing his trademark trench coat and hung it up. Next where his shoes. He plopped himself on the floor, leaning against the door. Normally, he got up and wouldn't sit on the floor; though in his current state he could care less. Long and slender fingers tended to his laces, pulling on the ends. The bow crumbled as he tugged. He slipped his fingers under them, loosening them and removing his left shoe. The same process was repeated on the right as he rested the removed shoes by the door.

He raised himself from the floor, grabbing his television remote. He sat himself down on his sofa. He legs hung of the end as brown hair pressed into the cream colored couch. His mind wondered and his vision blurred, he wasn't really in focus. Thoughts raced through his head off nights he shared with Rose, thoughts, secrets, and feelings. He needed to talk to someone, anyone really.

As he grabbed his phone and rolled through the contacts, he found that everyone in there where _Rose's _friends. Most of them only talked to him because of his relationship with the blonde. John deleted them, as his contacts where reduced into the teens. Some of them where from work, a few where family, they wouldn't care really, so the sad man ruled them out.

There was one contact he could count on, his best friend of sorts. He sent him a message, relaying his break up in a short summary.

_From: Jack_

_Oh_ _man I'm sorry. How you holding up?_

The grief stricken man had to laugh a little at Jack. The other man always seemed so caring and cheerful, beneath the stories of sex and copious amounts of drinking. It is one thing he liked about him and he tried to make it up to him, but he shrugged it off, stating how "If my allies are good, than I am."

He sent a simple '_Sad, could you come over?'_

This response took a few minutes, with a _why._ He told him why, how he wanted to talk to someone out loud about it and how he was his only friend really.

Another response. _'Be there soon, maybe half hour.'_

He hums slightly, feeling a little better already. Of course, his break up was still striking him in the face like a slap. He turns his attention to the television, eyes hardening again.

The pools are gone, replaced with hard, solid chocolate.

His heavy mind with his thoughts grows heavy, pushing him asleep. His eye lids droop over, they as well becoming heavy. And so he fell asleep like that, legs strewn over the side and face soft.

Later, too early it seemed a knock his heard on the door. He groans, pushing his face into the couch. A low laugh is heard on the other side, a "Come on John."

Said John drags himself off the couch, reaching for the door and opening it slightly, laying back down. Jack can't help, but laugh despite the situation. He always did turn quite childish when saddened. He enters, the cracked open door seeming like invitation to come in.

He takes off his shoes, knowing the brunette's house rules, how he didn't like shoes trekking through his apartment. He makes a few wise remarks like usual, in an attempt to cheer him up. John shouldn't linger on the past, right?

He grumbled at the taller man's remarks, frowning like a child. He turns on his side, head facing away from him. He wants- no _needs -_ the other male to comfort him, but his sadness and despair keeps him from doing so. To feel warmth is what he desires, an embrace from caring arms, but his mind says no. "Nice to see you made it," he mumbled.

Harkness laughed, "Wouldn't leave you when you're down." His friend seems to be changing every second, on minute a small child and the next a hardened man. He has never seen him like this and it hits him how hard the break up must've been on him. He moves towards the couch, shaking his shoulder gently, "You aren't going to sleep on me are you?"

A grumble from the other side answers his question. He tried to rouse the man, telling him that "I'm here to cheer you up!" He made little jokes, one about what does a chipmunk use to build his walls? Walnuts. He tells a story about how he had a threesome once, anything to get John over Rose. He remembers how he was ticklish and devised a plan.

He pulls him over so he is looking at the ceiling and pulls him down so his whole body is situated on the couch. He squeezes himself next to him and the smaller male hummed at the warmth. Jack moved his hands to his stomach and began tickling him.

In turn, he _giggled, _kicking his legs, feet hitting the armrest. Harkness kept up his antics, hands dancing across his belly. His eyes turned back into their liquid pools, enjoyment lighting up in them.

The amount of warmth that Jack gives him makes him light up, and knows that he doesn't want it to _end. _The touch and feel makes him forget what happened with Rose.

Jack stops his tickling of his stomach, "See? Better already." The small male huffed at the loss of the touch. He moved down the couch, holding his legs with one arm and tickling his feet with the other.

He shrieks in delight, butterflies forming in his stomach. All he knows is that with Jack, he'd be better before he knew it.

AN:/ Chapter Two might be up tomorrow! Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: /. This _sucks. _Carry on. Also, sorry its so short. Two days into summer vk and Im already on the get up at noon go to sleep at 4 am clock.

It'd been approximately five days since his breakup with Rose. He didn't know really know, days and hours lapsing into one. Jack had left, work coming first. It was times like these John was glad he had vacation days.

He watched _Absolutely Fabulous_, with little interest, repeats of the long running show playing. The sitcom made a witty remark and the grieving man had cracked a small smile.

His clothes from _that _day are where still worn. He didn't change them, and they became rumpled from numerous nights of sleeping on the couch. His socks where worn and thin, pants having numerous creases in them and his shirt long discarded. Of course he didn't sleep that much, running on low hours of sleep, dark bags appearing beneath his eyes.

The first day was easy, Jack making him feel better. But he had to leave, work and the need of sleep too important. The blue eyed man made a promise to come back when he had the chance. He didn't care what state he was in when Jack did make it back.

By the second day he presumed, the feeling of loneliness had set in. Only him in his apartment, not Rose there too, just him with items that use to be shared by the two. He had also called his mother, telling her of the break up. She cooed him, telling him how there would be other people, better people, and would come if needed.

His third day was when he rid himself of his shirt. John had moved food and drink near the couch, requirement to get up decreasing. He watched television and movies, occasionally taking food. Virtually the grief made his feet heavy, like his feet where anvils, harder to walk every day.

The fourth day was the worse by far. Rose had stopped by to pick up her belongings and to drop of his. Mickey, her new boyfriend, was carrying them. John felt slightly sick to his stomach at how _quick _she had moved on. He had opened the door, throwing on his shirt and sent a small, pained smile at them.

"I've come for my stuff John," the blonde stated. Small amounts of concerned shone in her eyes at seeing him in rumpled clothing and the dark circles under his eyes. It grew when he didn't nod or even say a simple "Okay," he just moved from the door.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. Rose had informed him that John was a normally cheery man, great smiles and attitude. This man seemed sadder, depressed. Rose led him inside, instructing him to set down the belongings by the door. He did as he was told, starting up a small talk. "Look, mate, I'm sorry," he told.

John nodded slightly, feeling a pang of disgust as she treads through his apartment, shoes on. "It's not your fault," he said. He fell back onto the couch, turning his gaze back to his show. He talks softly, so the person he was asking of wouldn't hear. "How is she?"

The dark skin man shrugged, "She's holding up. Better than you." He felt slightly uncomfortable, hoping his girlfriend would hurry.

Rose soon came back with boxes stacked in her arms and he takes the boxes from her. He never realized how much stuff she had. Her boyfriend left to set them in his small car, leaving the exes alone. She speaks up, voicing her concern. "You alright chap?" She might've broken up with him, but she expected him to bounce back up. Say a simple 'Alright' and carry on but this was the exact opposite. The pained look on him broke her heart.  
The brunette nods, a small "Yeah" escaping his lips.

"If you're not okay it is fine to tell me, I still care."

He shrugs, shoulders rolling into the couch. "I've had better days honestly. I just hurt a little, you know? Years down the drain, but I'll recover." He beamed her one of his usual smiles. "You take care now, with your new life and all," he told her.

She nodded, grabbing the door handle. "You too John." Rose turned the knob, the _click_, the push, and the close and she was gone.

He fell back into his original position, discarding his shirt once more. He paid close attention to the show, having a small feeling that tonight he would not get too much sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**I can imagine this isn't the chapter y'all wanted. But, this story, _A Comforting Friend_, is complete. I know! "But Pharoah, there's so much left to be done!" **

**This story was written when I was in a pit of depression, so I'll probably never pick up on this. I might redo it one of these days, but I have more important things to work on. **

**Apologies to all who Favorited and followed this story. And to tenner, for reviewing. But yeah, it's over. If it makes y'all feel better I feel like shit for doing this.**

**Love,**

**Pharoah**


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